Wake Me Up When You Remember
by Another Night Without You
Summary: He was Zexion, a 18 years old college student at day, and a dream traveler at night. One night, he met a new dreamer, Demyx. Weird thing happened: mysterious voices came into Demyx's dream, but unfortunately Zexion didn't know what was the cause. But then, Zexion experienced the voices himself. Something must be terribly wrong. Zexion/Demyx, multi chapter. Review please!
1. When or If I Remember You

**Wake Me Up When You Remember**

**Chapter I –When/If I Remember You**

He had finished his dinner and just brushed his teeth. He had worn his pajamas (a cute one, quite surprising for a male like him) and turned off the lamp on his room. _What a tiring day, _he thought. He swept his fringe off to the side of his face (even though it eventually fell back) and climbed his soft, fluffy bed. Instantly, he fell asleep comfortably.

In the other world, he was widely awake.

He was Zexion, a 18 years old college student at day, and a _dream traveler _at night. He spent his day at college, counting, calculating, and studying in his languorous, boring life. But at night, he was actively walking, moving from one dream to another, astonished by the lively dreams people had—something he couldn't have created by his own flat, monochromatic mind.

The first time he realized that he could travel into people's dreams was when he was only 7 years old. Little Zexion told that to his parents, but none believed him. He looked all over the places, trying to find out what was wrong with him. But he couldn't find anything related to his gift. Eventually, he gave up finding out about that. He enjoyed it, even.

Night by night, Zexion walked into people's dream, into literally every dream he encountered, looking for something he wasn't even sure of. But that was better compared to his day life, when everything was easily predicted—the same, never changing routine he had. In dreams, he could see what people wanted, what people feared, what people were thinking of or even what happened in their life before they went to sleep—they were all new and unpredicted. Zexion enjoyed the view; he could never get tired seeing them at night.

After eleven years of experience in dream traveling, Zexion had learned that there were absolute rules in the dream world: first, people would never remember Zexion being in their dream when they woke up (he had tried that plenty of times to his parents and friends). Second, people wouldn't remember what had happened in their previous dream. Third, the dreamer could easily change their dream however they want. However, there were plenty of things he hadn't known yet, like, what would happen if people die in their dreams? Or was there any way to make people remember his presence in their dreams? Zexion wasn't really interested in finding out the answers of the tingling questions despite his buzzing curiosity. So he just carried on and kept traveling, watching the beauty of dream world.

That night, for the first time of his eleven years in his life, he got very bored. The blue-steel haired man had seen his family's dreams, his friends', and even some strangers living near him. He needed a new entertainment, thus he decided to walk further, deeper into the wondrous world.

Upon walking on his bare feet, his ears caught some melodious tone. Curious and way beyond than interested, the teen headed to the source of the melodies. Between dreams, he finally found where it was from. From afar, he could see a teen (maybe he was just a college student like Zexion?) with sandy blonde hair styled into a spiky mullet was playing a blue string musical instrument on his trained hand. The man was playing his musical instrument while sitting on the edge of a wide fountain (the water sparkled under the sunlight beautifully, Zexion thought) and he was surrounded by people who, oddly enough, looked sorrowful. Slowly, Zexion approached the crowd and, unintentionally, lost in the harmony created by the stranger's fingers which were swiftly picking the strings, creating a magical song which Zexion had never heard.

He stayed standing up squeezed in the crowd, eyes closed, enjoying the music sipping into his mind, making it at ease. At least until the music stopped. It took him a few seconds to realization that the stranger had finished his song. Zexion finally fluttered his eyes open, only to meet a pair of bright blue eyes and a wide grin intended for him. Zexion blushed, being caught off guard and was thinking to leave immediately, but the blonde stranger grabbed his wrist.

"Hey, I've never seen you before," he didn't release his grip.

"Well," Zexion replied, "that couldn't be true. Your brain can't make new faces in dreams, we probably have met somewhere before."

The blonde teen snorted. "I know that already, but I can tell that you're different than people in my dream."

"How come?" Zexion doubted. He was afraid of him—he had been avoiding interacting to dreamers. But at the same time, it was also a reason of him deciding to keep the conversation going.

"You see, when I finished my music, people walked away and suddenly they forget about me. They don't talk to me." He pointed at some people who previously were listening to his act. "That happens every time I stop playing. Kinda sucks," he chuckled, but he sounded sad. "But the point is, you don't." The blonde's blue eyes were now observing Zexion's face carefully.

The blue-steel haired teen licked his lips—how could he explain it to the guy in front of him? There was no other way other than telling the truth, Zexion decided. Plus, the teen would forget everything when he woke up, anyway. In a brief time, Zexion explained everything to the blonde. Strange, explaining to a dreamer about himself, but it was definitely something Zexion hadn't done before, and it satisfied him for some reasons.

"Wow, that's cool!" The blonde seemed to be glowing with the excitement after Zexion finished his explanations. "Oh, I haven't introduced myself," he blushed sheepishly. "My name is Demyx," he said as he offered his hand.

Zexion shook it and managed to make a miniscule smile on his lips. "Zexion," he answered, short and clear. Deciding to quench his curiosity, Zexion asked, "So, Demyx, what kind of dream is this?"

"Huh?" Demyx appeared to be puzzled by the question.

"People have different kind of dreams: about their pasts, their likings, their lifes, their fears and such. What is this one about?"

The blonde scratched his head, trying to grasp the new information. "Uh, I'm not sure. Combination of them, I guess. We are in my hometown when I was a child, means it's my past. Me playing sitar here"—Zexion had just learned what was that musical instrument called—"means it's my liking. My friends watching me playing it, means it's about my life. But them forgetting me, means it's my fear." He shrugged.

Zexion nodded in amazement. People usually only dreamed one of them—at least one at a time and the other one on the next days—but Demyx's dream was quite complicated.

"How long do you think I've been sleeping?" Demyx pondered. He put his sitar down near his feet.

"Well, just as long as you're usually sleeping. It feels like forever in dream world, but believe me, you'll wake up before you realized it." Zexion smiled at him.

The blonde sighed. "Yeah, it does feel like forever and I kinda hope I'll wake up soon. It's lonely here, and sometimes this dream is getting weirder."

"Weird how?"

"You see, sometimes I hear voices calling my name and sometimes saying more stuff which I barely comprehend. The voices sounded sad and it makes me feel terrible for not being able to answer it." His shoulder drooped, brows furrowed.

The other teen swept his fringe and mused. Now, that was really weird—he had never experienced something like that. "What are they saying other than your name?"

"Something like 'come back' and 'I miss you'. Sometimes they are longer, but I can't really understand it, they're too long."

Just like magic, a moment after Demyx finished his sentence, some voices echoed throughout the sky.

'_Demyx,' _it called. _'we—don't—please—wa—ple—miss you—Demyx.'_

'_Come back—to—u—we—pl—myx'_

'_H—are—yo—we are—to—music—sitar—dem!'_

After a while, the voices went into complete gibberish and it faded out slowly. Demyx gestured to the sky.

"That's what I meant. I'm not really sure what they're trying to say." The blonde shook his head sadly.

"That's really weird," Zexion agreed. He, also, could sense the sadness in their voices.

"But the voices are familiar somehow. Like, I've heard them somewhere." Demyx added.

Zexion only shrugged: he might've be a dream traveler, but that was it, nothing more. He couldn't fill Demyx.

After that, both of them spent their time talking together. At first Zexion was hesitant—he knew that he had to wake up sooner or later (including Demyx, too) and Demyx would never remember him—but he was carried away by his new companion. Demyx told him various things about his life: his childhood, his parents, his hobby, fears, dreams, and ambitions, literally everything he could think of. And in return, Zexion told everything he knew about the dream world. The blue-steel haired teen wasn't tired of listening to Demyx's funny, interesting blabbering of the his life, but a familiar feeling was reaching to him, and it made him feel bad instantly.

"Hey, Dem," Zexion called, interrupting the blonde's chatter, "I think it's time for me to wake up."

Demyx's eyes went wide but after a couple of seconds his expression softened. His lips turned into a smile, but Zexion could tell that it was sadness in Demyx's cerulean eyes. "I see. Too bad I won't remember you the next time we meet, huh?"

"Yeah." Zexion nodded. "But don't worry, Dem, I remember about you."

"But that's really unfair for you. No one remembers you here," Demyx protested, lacing Zexion's fingers lightly.

"The same for you. Your 'friends' forget you when you stopped playing your sitar, right?" Zexion patted Demyx's shoulder lightly.

The blonde mused for a few seconds. "Yeah, my biggest fear. I'm afraid of oblivion, Zexion. But," he stared deeply into Zexion's eyes, "I know this is only a dream and my friends will remember me when I wake up. But you..." His voice trailed off.

"It's fine, I'm used with it," he lied. It wasn't fine. Demyx was a really interesting guy, and boy, did he wish he would see him again and talk to him on the other time. There was something interesting in Demyx and Zexion could feel something was different about him. But that was the dream world's rule, he didn't have any power to break it. The good-bye eventually had to be faced, Zexion thought sadly. He had to accept the fact that they might not ever meet again, and if they did, Demyx wouldn't remember a thing. "Maybe I can find you in real life, and I'll try to remind you there," Zexion chuckled.

"Sounds good, I hope my awake self will recognize you!" The blonde made a sincere laughter. "Okay then, see you later... uh, when I remember you." He added awkwardly.

"_If _you remember me," Zexion corrected. "Farewell, Demyx. You're such a nice man to talk to." The dream traveler stood up and made his way back, half-heartedly heading off from Demyx's cloud of dream.

"You too." Voice almost breaking, Demyx let Zexion walked away from his dream. "Good bye, Zexion, I'll miss you."

"Me too."

* * *

A/N: Review, please! I want to know if the plot is interesting enough :) I need another fic to switch writing back and forth so I won't get bored, but I promise everything will be written. I won't discontinue any of my fics! I had fun writing this fic, and I'll try to dig deeper into their personalities. I hope you enjoyed this new fic (and hey, it's not more than 3k words!), look forward for next chapter. –Anwy.


	2. Voices

**Wake Me Up When You Remember**

**Chapter II – ****Voices**

* * *

Zexion's eyes were opened slowly after his deep sleep. He sat on his bed for a while, remembering. The sandy blonde hair, the green-blue wondrous eyes and the honest smile. They left an unpleasant feeling in Zexion's heart. He sighed.

"_Zexion!" _A small voice called.

The teen gasped, quickly observing his surrounding only to find his room as quiet as ever. Whose voice was that? His heart beat faster.

"_Help!"_

He wasn't imagining things, wasn't he? Zexion doubted himself. It might have been just his imagination even though he wasn't exactly the most imaginative teen. He waited a couple of minutes and the mysterious voice was gone. Then he left his room quickly.

* * *

That night, Zexion had finished his college assignment, had helped his father on the store (his father fixed and sold musical instruments whether they were new or secondhand), had eaten his dinner, had brushed his teeth and basically had done everything he needed to do that day. And all he had to do was just to sleep. But he couldn't—or perhaps, didn't want to. He was afraid to see Demyx again. The boy would've forgotten about him, and truly, it would hurt Zexion. To be forgotten; maybe it wasn't just Demyx's fear, but also his.

Zexion sighed and finally, he switched the lamp off, climbed up to his bed, tucked his feet under the blanket and rested his head. Eyes still wide open, he stare into the infinite darkness. The view of a mischievous smile and ocean eyes haunted him, at least until he fully aslept without realising it.

He was awake in the dream world. Clouds of dreams floating every here and there. Zexion's bare feet stepped on the invisible floor and he started walking—it didn't feel like walking, more like flying, but he wasn't exactly flying himself, he still had to use his feet. Just like the other day, he traveled further and further. Far, far he walked, and he arrived on the familiar surroundings.

The same sky, same light air, same smell of grass field, same village and same fountain. And of course, the very same Demyx as well. He approached slowly without Demyx knowing. Hidden in the crowd, he was playing his sitar just like the other day. Weird, Demyx was having the same dream as the other day, Zexion thought. Just as the music finished, the crowd left, revealing the blonde teen Zexion had missed. Their eyes met; Zexion's icy blue and Demyx's bright teal, warm eyes. Zexion was just going to leave when Demyx called him.

"Hey!" The teen waved his free hand (while the other was holding his sitar) and then beckoned Zexion to his place.

Zexion didn't move a muscle, he just stood there. What was the point, just to talk to his new friend and then doing it all over again on the next night because he wouldn't remember a thing?

"Zexion!" Demyx called again, and then a wash of feeling reached Zexion.

How could Demyx remember him? No, no, it wasn't possible. He couldn't have remembered Zexion at all—

"Zexy, come here alright. I missed talking to you!" Demyx kept smiling and didn't realize how surprised Zexion was.

Quickly, the teen walked to where Demyx sat, almost stumbling on his feet. Zexion was still staring at Demyx, still amazed.

"What's wrong with you?" The blonde asked.

Trains of questions were filling Zexion's mouth, but only one escaped: "How can you remember me?" Again and again, Zexion made sure it was the same Demyx he had met on the other night.

"Um," Demyx doubted. "Well, I just do."

"Didn't you wake up? You should have forgotten all about me the moment you woke up. You couldn't possibly make anything out about my presence at all, let alone our conversation." Weird, weird, weird, Zexion thought.

"The thing is..." Demyx made an unsure chuckle, "I haven't woken up." The blonde teen looked confused as well, just as much as Zexion was.

Zexion frowned. "Are you saying that you're asleep for more than 24 hours?"

"Whoa, am I? I dunno, I couldn't figure out the timing here, ya know," he shrugged.

"Don't ask me back, but it's true. I've gone through the whole day and you're still sleeping, Demyx."

Demyx looked at his hands nervously. "I don't know, Zexion. Maybe I am." He lifted his chin and turned his face to Zexion. "Do you think there's something wrong with my real self?"

"You mean your sleeping body?" Zexion shook his head, bit his lips and added, "Maybe yes. Can you recall anything before your last sleep?"

The other teen crossed his hands in front of his chest and started to think. Creases formed on Demyx's forehead, his expression was clearly showing that he was concentrating. "Nah, not a thing."

How could one sleep for more than 24 hours? Moreover, how could he explain the strange voices in Demyx's dream? Something must've been up. Something wrong. Something irregular.

"Let's just ignore it, Zexy." Demyx's voice caught Zexion's attention. "I mean, I don't really care anyway. Plus, look at the bright side: I still remember you," he smiled, a very similar smile like Zexion had seen on the other night.

Knowing that there was nothing Zexion could do, the boy inhaled deeply and decided just to ignore the matter. At least for a while. Maybe he could do some researches when he was awake later. Zexion then nodded.

"So... I've told you a lot of thing about myself yesterday," Demyx started. Zexion remembered almost everything Demyx had told him. That he got his first musical instrument when he was 9 years old, he liked to swim every weekend, he usually ate his pancakes with ice cream rather than maple syrup or even how Demyx preferred to stay alone with his sitar for weeks rather than leaving it behind for 3 days.

Demyx then contined, "Now, we have plenty of time for you to tell about _yourself_." The blonde teen beamed, excited by the thought of knowing about Zexion more.

"I'm not _that_ interesting, Dem." Zexion replied, definitely had no intention of talking about himself. But Demyx made the pleading look and Zexion just had to change his mind. "Okay," he huffed. "Um, I'm just like you, 18 years old. I'm currently a college student, studying physics. My family owns a store which sells musical instruments and sometimes we repair broken stuff as well."

"More," Demyx demanded.

"I don't know what else to tell." The blue-steel haired teen frowned.

"Tell me about your liking. Your hobby, what you do every day and such." Demyx moved his body closer to Zexion, seemed to be very interested in Zexion's personal life.

"I like physics, that's why I'm studying it." Zexion thought it was pretty boring for most people he had met (and introduced himself to), but Demyx didn't appear to be that way. His face told that he would've liked everything Zexion told him. So, he continued. "I also like calculating stuff, writing data, making tables, graphics. Things which need full concentration and high accuracy."

Demyx nodded, absorbing the new facts about Zexion. If there was a book of 100 facts about Zexion, Zexion was sure that Demyx would've bought it in a heartbeat and even asked him to sign it.

"Tell me about what you do on your free time."

It kinda bothered him, to be honest. Zexion wasn't used being asked a lot about himself, and he hardly found anything to say. Funny, he just realised that he knew so little about himself.

"Um... I read sometimes. I think books about psychological disorders are cool." The moment he finished the sentence, Zexion realised he might've sounded like a nerd.

Demyx's eyes were still stuck on Zexion's face. Like he would've rested his eyes on it forever. "So, what book is your favorite?"

"'The Minds of Billy Milligan' is my favorite. You should read it," Zexion made a faint smile, subconsciously pleased to talk about himself (even though it felt weird at first). Awkwardly, he added, "Of course, right after you wake up."

The blonde teen laughed, and his laugh made Zexion felt a little bit uneasy. He knew that Demyx wasn't laughing at _him_, but Zexion felt bad about the fact Demyx not being able to wake up for unknown reason.

"Yeah, I'll definitely buy the book right after I wake up. I promise," Demyx managed to talk after his laugh had stopped.

Just like the other night, the strange voices reappeared.

'_How—are—Dem—ning—hello?'_

'_All—th—same—not—bett—bad'_

"The voices again," Zexion snapped. Demyx, however, seemed to be used with them. He didn't look at the sky, where the voices echoed, like Zexion did.

'_Yes—myx—come—come'_

'_Please—help!"_

A familiar feeling came to Zexion's mind. "Dem," he called. Demyx hummed, and directed his attention to Zexion after fiddling with his sitar. "This morning, I think I heard a voice too."

Demyx sat straight and blinked a few times. "Really? Huh, that's weird."

"Yeah, and it happened _after _I woke up. Not in my dream." Zexion shook his head. He wanted to believe that it was only his imagination, but he simply couldn't. It felt way too _real_. Just like the voices inside Demyx's dream.

"Did it sound like the voices in my dream?"

Zexion mused for a while. "No, it was clear, not chopped off like that. And it was coming from a female."

"What did it say?"

"It called my name and asked for help."

Demyx seemed to be surprised. "Whoa, now that's weird. Why did it need help from you?"

"I don't know," Zexion said, "I have no idea."

* * *

"Help," the voice called, "please help Demyx!" It sounded familiar. In fact, Zexion was sure it was the very same voice he had heard this morning.

Full of sweats, Zexion was awakened by the voice. It was clear, vivid as if it was _right_ beside his ear. In reflect, Zexion turned his face to the voice's direction but all he saw was nothing. Literally _nothing_.

Not even his room.

Where was he? Where was Demyx? What happened to him?

It was a complete dark, yet he was still able to see things clearly even though it was nothing more than void other than his hands and feet (he could see them alright). Abruptly, a spark of light appeared about a foot away from him, shaped like a bird, flying. Zexion tried to reach it but it flew away while glowing dimly, eventually leading Zexion to somewhere. The teen followed it, not too fast but not too slow. Was he still dreaming? He wasn't exactly terrified by the experience, but he was utterly confused. He had never experienced such event. And all strange things only happened after he met...

Demyx.

It must have something to do with him.

Pondering, he didn't realise the bird-like light had stopped. The place (room?) suddenly lightened up and thing were starting to make shapes. Zexion now saw a beach. Pretty much a beach like how you would've _imagined_ them, not the dirty and filled with human ocean rather than real ocean, but the one with clean sand, blue _blue _ocean with sparkling waves and neverending sky. There was a bridge leading to an island, a small one, with a weird looking tree. And a figure was standing there.

Zexion ran towards the bridge and the figure didn't seem to acknowledge his presence. After he was close enough, Zexion took a good look at the figure—at _her_. She has a long brown hair, curly in the end, tied up with a red ribbon into a pony tail. She was wearing a pink colored dress that suits her pale white skin perfectly. She then turned her face and saw Zexion.

"You must be Zexion," She started, also smiling. A genuine smile, Zexion marked.

"Who are you? And why am I here?" The boy didn't bother to confirm his name. His questions were far more important.

"I'm Aerith. And you're still in your dream." Her voice was small and soft, but loud enough to be heard. It was comforting.

"Then where's Demyx? I was just in his dream a while ago," Zexion doubted.

"You're in a different phase of your sleep, Zexion." She pointed at two chairs behind us (since when there were chairs?) and said, "Please sit down." Zexion did as she asked. "Zexion, I'm sorry I can't say really much even though I know you're dying to know more about the dream world as you're going to wake up soon." She was talking rather quickly. "But I'm here to tell you that Demyx is in a really dangerous situation." Her expression changed, into a worried one.

"What do you mean?"

"If he can't wake up soon, he will be stuck in his dream forever."

"And how do I wake him?" Zexion frowned. It didn't sound good.

Aerith looked unsure on a split second, but finally said: "You have to kill him."

* * *

A/N: Hello again :) I hope you enjoyed reading this one. School is done! And gee, the government just blocked this site so I had to use a fake VPN just to access this site.


	3. Trust Me If You Remember

**Wake Me Up When You Remember**

**Chapter III – Trust Me If You Remember**

* * *

"If he can't wake up soon, he will be stuck in his dream forever."

"And how do I wake him?" Zexion frowned. It didn't sound good.

Aerith looked unsure on a split second, but finally said: "You have to kill him."

Zexion's eyebrows laced together in disbelief. "No," he spat. "How do I know you're telling the truth? I don't know for sure if he's going to wake up if I _kill_ him."

The woman smiled at him, as if she had expected such reaction. "I know you're a smart boy, Zexion." She exhaled and said, "Well, to put it simple, I've experienced it _myself_."

"What do you mean? You're stuck here?"

"Worse." Her fragile smile faded from her lips. "It was too late."

* * *

"What the hell?"

Zexion sat stright on his bed, panting. He slowed his breath down, trying to collect his thoughts... his dream.

If people were glad to be woken up from a bad dream, Zexion wasn't. In fact, the dream had created its own terror in his awake world. What if Aerith was right? What if he didn't wake Demyx up, it would be all too late? And Demyx would be... dead?

What _if_?

Should he trust Aerith?

With his mind filled with _what if_s, Zexion decided to carry on and did his daily routine, went to college.

* * *

"Hey, Zexy!" The familiar greeting with a wide grin and a hand waving enthusiastically was directed to Zexion, which the teen welcomed warmly by giving his signature small-but-convincing smile. Zexion wasn't exactly focused that night, or even excited with his meeting with Demyx.

Few nights had already passed. It would all felt so quick if what Aerith had told him didn't bother him to the point Zexion couldn't have an actual rest from sleeping. And it was only getting worse by nights.

Demxy seemed to pick the mood and asked, "Something's wrong?" The steel-blue haired teen sat next to him and the sandy blonde moved closer to him.

"No, everything's fine, Dem." Not sure, Zexion had decided not to bring the problem up, at least for now.

"So," Demyx started, his curious expression quickly changed into a bright smile, "I figured you might be bored with this view—the fountain and empty village, I mean—so why not we walk somewhere else?"

Surprised with the offer, Zexion raised his eyebrows. He didn't feel bored, though, because all he needed was Demyx to keep talking and he wouldn't get tired of it, but the idea of seeing Demyx's world further wasn't bad at all. "Sure, why not?"

Demyx stood up and grabbed Zexion's hand and then he started walking, followed by the latter. The baby blue sitar had been left near the fountain, much to Zexion's surprise because Demyx and the instrument were inseparable, but then he thought there wouldn't be any thief after all. He also realized that it was way more comfortable to walk together holding hands with one other hand available rather than having the huge sitar.

"I really miss this place a lot, you know." Zexion hummed in lieu of respond. "The last time I was here, the village, I mean, was when I was 8."

"Were you visiting your grandparents or something?" The other teen asked, his face facing downwards, glancing at his right hand which was laced with Demyx's own. Since when he became comfortable with touching people?

"I used to live here since I was born and we moved out to the city. But yeah, my grandparents live here, for the record."

Zexion then lifted his head, slightly upward because of the blonde's height. His expression was different than usual, kind of difficult to be deciphered.

"Why did you move, then?" Still staring at Demyx, he felt the taller teen slowed his walking pace.

"Let's just say something bad happened," Demyx answered.

Zexion felt like wanting to ask more, but maybe it wasn't the right time. He didn't want to ruin the mood: it was really calm and peaceful on that part of the village. More houses—old, but looked strong and charming—were starting to fill the area as they walked further. It felt like walking inside a fairy tale, a story book with beautiful images on it.

"This is such a pretty village," The shorter teen remarked, a tinge of excitement found in his voice.

"I know," Demyx chuckled, "we can't find this in town." The pair walked a bit further, and then approaching a house which stood still just before the dense forest, indicating the end of their way. "This was where I lived. Let's get in."

The house was a two story, just like most of the houses in that village. The walls were painted white; some molds seemed to have grown on the lower part of the wall, while the other part of the wall was covered in vines. Potted plants were filling the garden, various kinds of flowers blooming as if they had been watered every day, despite the fact the village was empty (other than Demyx's friends who only came to listen at Demyx's sitar solo, of course.) The blonde had already proceeded to open the short gate which creaked as it swung open. Demyx then beckoned Zexion and they both got in, with the latter still looking around in astonishment. It wasn't everyday he could see a house like that.

"You like the garden?" The sandy blonde's half shouting voice startled Zexion from his awed state.

"It's gorgeous. I've never had any plants; no one likes gardening at my home."

Demyx laughed. "Well, considering your father's busy with the store and your mom away to office and then their only child going to college, no wonder no one has the time to do some dirty gardening."

Zexion chuckled in response: "Sounds about right."

Both boys walked to the front door. It was quite a small door, made of wood and the paint was already fading off. Demyx turned the rusty knob and the door opened easily, as if welcoming them inside. Deeply and slowly, Demyx inhaled the air.

"Smells like home," he said, almost whispering. For Zexion, it smelled like a warm air of freshly baked vanilla waffle with cinnamon on top. Maybe that was Demyx's definition of "home".

The house was quite a vast one, very spacey and comfortable. A classic fireplace, made of rock, was on the right side with a sofa facing towards it. An old rug with dusty green color was on the wooden floor, sprayed in front of the sofa. It must've been the living room, Zexion thought. On the other side of the room was a kitchen, with utensils which more likely to be used for pastries. There appeared to be a few rooms as well and also bathrooms. On the far side, there were stairs.

"My room used to be next to that stairs," Demyx pointed his finger at the said stairs, "but then my grandparents kinda have trouble with going up and down, so I had to move upstairs."

"You liked your new room?"

"Yep, it was quite big. It covered half of the floor, after all." Looking at Zexion, Demyx then smiled and took his hand again. "Let's see my room."

Led by the taller teen, Zexion and the former walked together, climbing the stairs. Up there was Demyx's room, low ceiling, fully bathed in sunlight and surprisingly no smell of dust (because it was in a dream?) A tiny bed was put against the wall, dark blue blanket covering it messily. Toys were scattering on the floor, but creating a pathway to the bed; Demyx must've been lazy enough not to put them back in the box without wanting them to distract his way to the bed. The thought made Zexion chuckle, imagining young Demyx playing with all kind of toys here: fire truck, super hero figures, little piano which worked with batteries and other toys he had never seen in his life. Despite living in the village, Demyx's family seemed to have spoiled him with these toys which could only be acquired at town.

"You sure did have a lot of toys for a boy who lived in village," The shorter teen teased.

Releasing his grip on Zexion's hand briefly, Demyx walked towards the bed. "Yeah, my dad bought a lot of them, as if they could replace him." The last few words gave Zexion a clue about Demyx's family: it wasn't pleasant.

Trying not to sound too curious, Zexion added, "Well, at least you still have your mom and grandparents, right?"

Demyx sighed, his lips forming a sad smile. "My grandparents are nice," and that was all. Zexion thought that something must've happened to his mom, but he didn't dare to ask about that, so he'd just let it be.

The blonde teen sat on the bed, and it wasn't creaking like an old one, as if it was brand new. Zexion sat next to him, just like most of the time: he followed Demyx everywhere and sat next to him, as if trying to convince he would always be there for him. And, just like usual, Demyx tugged on the other teen's fingers until they loosened and he slipped his hand inside Zexion's own, intertwining them.

The proximity Zexion experienced there was different than when they were sitting by the fountain: even though he knew it was only dream world, it still felt like he had some privacy there. Leaning in, Demyx closed the gap between them—almost. Their lips were close, but never met, only an inch apart. Zexion froze in his place, holding his breath, until Demyx shifted his face and then kissed the other teen's cheek; delicate and long enough to make his heart almost stop beating.

"I like you, Zexion," Demyx whispered, enough just to sip into Zexion's ear, which was close to the speaker's lips. "You're... special."

Still in mild shock, Zexion didn't say a thing. He just smiled.

The blonde continued, "It feels like I can trust you." Demyx lifted his hand, caressing Zexion's cheek which he just kissed. It felt dry and rough but Zexion didn't mind. "I really hope I can remember you if I can actually wake up."

Zexion placed his hand on Demyx's own. "Promise me, if you actually wake up, bring me pink Carnation."

"Why the flower?"

"Just do it for me, Dem."

* * *

Rather than listening to his professor, Zexion caught himself thinking about Demyx. What in the world could've happened to him? Biting his pen, the teen knew that college was almost over. He just only needed to wait for the bell... and it rang. Quickly, he grabbed his bag and made his way home.

It was about 3 pm when the steel blue haired teenager had arrived home. The sky was painted red, a bit cloudy, indicating rain later in the evening. He had gone to the library to find anything about dream world and voices in dreams as well as sleeping phases, but none of them actually helped him.

The teen entered the small-but-not-too-small building with a huge sign saying "The Castle Instrument Store" (smaller writings saying: "we sell and accept second hand instruments. We also repair your stuff"), a place that he called "home". Zexion had just entered the front door (an "open" sign hanging on the door, right before his nose—he didn't like the placement), where he saw his father standing just behind the counter. Right in front of him was a pink haired man, carrying a quite large instrument, covered in leather cover.

"Just a quick regular check up, sir, making sure everything's okay, and that's it. It hasn't been used, after all," The pink haired man said.

"Alright, it'll take 3 days, no more than that, young man." Zexion's father replied. He then opened the cover's zipper, revealing a guitar-like instrument. "How old is this sitar?"

"I think it's, like, 4 years old? I'm not sure, it isn't mine. It's my friend's."

"Looks like he takes care of this baby nicely, not even a scratch on it." The old man chuckled.

"I know, he really loves this thing. Won't even let me touch with dirty hands," the younger man laughed.

Zexion walked closer, only to find something he had seen clearly before—a baby blue sitar. It was oddly _familiar_ he was pretty sure he had seen it before.

Wasn't it _Demyx's_? The one he would play every time Zexion came to his dream? He squinted his eyes and saw the sitar's detail. The color, shape, it was all the same.

Quickly, Zexion grabbed the pink haired man's shoulder, making him turning his face to him.

"I'm sorry, whose sitar is that?"

"Excuse me?" The man looked startled, backing away a step.

"Zexion, it's no way to greet our customer." Of course, Zexion's father wasn't pleased by the behavior.

"Sorry, but I've seen it before." Zexion gulped a hard lump in his throat—could this be true? Now that he had a good look on his father's customer, it struck him. He had seen this man in Demyx's dream: he was one of his friends. "This sitar—it belongs to Demyx, right?"

* * *

A/N: We're getting somewhere and I think this fic won't last long? 5 chapters, it is. I guess.


	4. Kill Me If You Remember

"Sorry, but I've seen it before." Zexion gulped a hard lump in his throat—could this be true? Now that he had a good look on his father's customer, it struck him. He had seen this man in Demyx's dream: he was one of his friend. "This sitar—it belongs to Demyx, right?"

The man's features seemed to be softer when the name was mentioned, almost feminine. "Yes." His voice was small, almost whispering. "Do you know him?"

What should he say? 'Oh yes I met him in his dream and we got pretty close after a few meetings' didn't sound convincing. Maybe if he could remember something Demyx had said...

"Oh, um... we met at Never Was Music Store. We are quite close," Zexion was relieved Demyx had mentioned the music store's name.

"I see, he went there a lot didn't he?" The man chuckled. "Apologies, my name is Marluxia, but everyone calls me Marly," he offered his hand.

Zexion shook his hand and made a reassuring smile. "I'm Zexion. Do you mind if we talk a bit about Demyx?"

Beckoning Zexion, Marluxia walked out from his house and the teen followed him ("see you later, dad, it won't be long, I promise.") Marluxia had taken him to his car and they had been driving for 20 minutes. A little voice in Zexion's head cried what if he was going to be kidnapped, but, in the other hand, he was curious where would Marluxia take him. Perhaps he would take him straight to Demyx? After passing a few blocks, they took a turn and arrived in front of a hospital. Both of them took the elevator to the 9th floor and Marluxia guided Zexion to a room. In a quiet hush, they got in.

It was quite a large room, all belonged to the patient, obviously a VIP one. When they got in, Zexion saw a woman standing next to the bed which was half covered with curtain, her shilouette against the opened window, backlit with the scarlet sky.

Marluxia turned the lamp on. "Gee, Larx, why didn't you turn the goddamn lamp on? It's getting darker."

The woman, whose figure was clearer now (smooth blond hair, all swept backwards with two hanging strands which apparently left that way in purpose) sneered, "Sorry, I'm eco friendly enough not to waste electricity." She then turned her body to our direction. When her eyes landed on Zexion, the blonde woman raised her eyebrows. "Who is this kiddo? Please don't say you have interest in kid, Marly."

Marluxia waved his hand dismissively. "This is Zexion. Zexion, this woman with lame jokes is Larxene." The younger teen nodded at her direction. "Apparently Demyx dragged him in his friend circle."

Larxene tilted her head and then turned her face back to the bed, as if losing interest in Zexion all of sudden. "Okay, Zexion, welcome to the club."

"Thanks," Zexion replied, wasn't sure what to say. He then walked slowly, approaching the bed, trying to look at what was behind the curtain. And when he finally could see everything, the view strucked him.

Laying flat, there was Demyx. Even though he knew it was Demyx, at the same time it didn't feel like him—as if he was a stranger. After all, Zexion had never met Demyx in real world until that second. He looked exactly the same, but a few things were off. The Demyx laying in front of him didn't have the adorable smile Zexion usually saw. The Demyx laying in front of him was white pale, as if all color had been drained from his face. The Demyx laying in front of him wasn't talking to him animatedly, or tugging Zexion's finger when they were chatting; he was still, almost lifeless. Zexion would've thought Demyx was dead if it wasn't the small exhaling and inhaling movement from the sandy blonde's chest and the beeping machine. It was painful to see Demyx like that, but at the same time striking because of the huge differences between the Demyx that Zexion knew.

Zexion took a few steps back then a hand landed on his shoulder. "I know, he looks horrible doesn't he?" Larxene's face was tough, her jaw stiff, talking with lips almost not moving at all, as if she was angered by the situation. "It was only a little accident."

"What accident?" Curiosity took over his mind.

"A car crash. It actually wasn't that serious, his body wasn't injured badly. But his head... Talk about bad luck," Marluxia answered.

"How long has he been like this?" Zexion felt overwhelmed. Even though he had only known Demyx for a few meetings, he had felt Demyx was a close friend. And seeing him like that... he almost couldn't bear it.

"Tomorrow, it will be 6 months." The blonde sat on a chair near the bed. "He wasn't recovering at all, even getting worse." It seemed like her anger had melted—she looked hopeless. Larxene tried to laughed, but choked and then managed her breath for a while before continuing, holding tears back. "We try talking to him everyday but he's not responding, not even a twitch, all sleeping like rock—literally."

That would've explained the voices. It was both Marluxia and Larxene's voices that he and Demyx had heard before.

Zexion didn't know what to say, he felt depressed just seeing Demyx like that. He then looked at the desk next to the bed. It was filled with framed photographs. All showing healthy the blonde man having fun with Marluxia and Larxene and the other friends. _That _was the Demyx he knew, laughing his heart off like there was no tomorrow, smiling like he just won an award and playing sitar just like a musician in his concert.

"Does his family come often too?" Zexion asked, feeling weird since there wasn't any picture of Demyx with his family (he recognized all the faces from Demyx's dream and it now just struck him how Demyx had never told him about his family.) "He—Demyx, I meant—never talked about his family."

"No wonder," Marluxia rested his back on the wall. "He isn't fond with his father. The old man isn't that nice, after all. All rude and always busy with work. We are... we are all that he's got." The pinked haired man's lips formed a smile.

"His mother?" Zexion remembered how Demyx seemed to avoid mentioning about his mother.

"She passed away when he was 8. She was sick, I think. Demyx didn't tell much about her, either."

"Tomorrow, 6 months," Marluxia whispered, caressing Demyx's face, which caught Zexion's attention. "They are taking these machines off of him."

Bad thoughts surrounded Zexion's head. "What do you mean?"

"Dem's father told the doctors if he doesn't wake up in 6 months, he would let Dem _rest_."

Larxene lost it and started to cry silently.

Zexion was shocked. He just realised behind the ear-to-ear smile, there was a painful thing Demyx hide. Zexion turned back to Demyx again, and then walked closer. He then brought his fingers to Demyx's face and touched it. Cold.

Zexion had already missed the sandy blonde's warmth.

* * *

"I'm... in coma?" Demyx then laughed, as if Zexion had told him a joke. "That's ridiculous, it couldn't have happened."

"But, Dem, that explains why you're not waking up," Zexion tried to convince him. "You were in a car crash and your head was screwed up! I saw you there, laying on the bed."

The blonde's smile went smaller. He then shifted his seat closer to Zexion to make sure he heard him correctly, not drowned by the sound of drizzling water of the fountain behind them. "Zexy, you can't possibly see me in real life—"

"I did!"

Demyx didn't respond, half-believing what had been told to him until that very second.

"I... I met Marluxia and Larxene at the hospital—" the blonde's eyes grew wider when he heard those names—"I saw you there, cold, pale, lifeless..." Zexion's shoulder fell. He didn't know if telling Demyx about his condition in real life would do any help or making it worse. Looking up at the sky, he added, "The voices you—we—heard, they belong to your friends. They tried talking to you everyday, waiting for you to wake up, Dem."

Zexion looked into Demyx's eyes; something had changed inside them, telling him that Demyx had believed him.

"I don't know, Zexion. This is to much for me... I don't know what to do or how to get up." His cerulean eyes gazed down, now filled with tears that he still held back. "Was my father there?" He asked after a few seconds of silence.

The steel-blue haired teen shook his head gently and then he put his right hand on Demyx's shoulder. It was shaking.

"He was _never_ be there for me," Demyx made a pathetic smile. "Neither him or my mother. No one cares."

Zexion lifted the blonde's chin and whispered, "That's not true. You have me, and Marluxia and Larxene. We love and care about you, Dem."

He almost told Demyx everything but one fact. One fact about Demyx's death tomorrow, when the dotors were going to take the machines off, turning off everything that had made Demyx 'alive' until that very second.

"And, there's one more thing—"

Before he finished his sentence, the view in front of Zexion's eyes changed into a solid darkness, filling every room.

Dark and quiet. The silence was deafening him.

In a split second, the darkness started to fade and making forms and shapes, creating smaller details smoothly. The blue sky, the sand, the palm tree and of course Aerith was there.

"Zexion."

He nodded.

"This will be the last time we meet," She smile sadly just like before. "Anyway, you have to wake him now, there is no time left. Tomorrow—Demyx will actually be dead," Aerith pleaded. From her voice, Zexion felt that she was hurt.

"I know about it," He replied to the older woman. "So I have to kill him in this dream world in order to wake him?"

"Yes. And oh, there's a little something that would help you to do it. It's inside your pocket."

The teen put his hand into his pocket and he touched the cold metal.

"And Zexion... I'm sorry for you. Demyx..." She shook her head.

"Yeah." Aerith didn't have to finish what she had to say because Zexion knew it. He knew what would happen if he killed Demyx in the dream world. He knew it very well.

* * *

Zexion woke up—still in a dream—to see two worried eyes right in front of his face.

"Whoa, Zexy, you okay? You just black out so suddenly it scares me. I didn't know people can black out in a dream," he chuckled and made a small 'whew'.

Zexion didn't say a word. He knew what he should do, and it was to kill Demyx here. He had to do it for Demyx's good. He shouldn't be selfish for what would happen next—Demyx being alive was better than _that_.

"Hey," Demyx waved his hand in front of the teen's face, "You okay?"

The smaller teen grabed Demyx's hand and pulled it down. "I talked to Aerith."

"What?"

"I talked to Aerith," he repeated, raising his voice.

"Okay, Zexy, you are so messed up. About me being coma was already stressful and then you blacked out and when you finally awake you suddenly said you talked to my mother who was dead 10 years ago."

"She told me I have to wake you up, Dem."

Demyx pulled his hand from Zexion's own. "Stop messing with me."

"No, no, you don't understand, Dem," Zexion's lips were trembling. "You're gonna be dead tomorrow."

The blonde gulped and his eyes were wide in shock. "Okay, this is not funny, Zexion." The other teen noted how Demyx didn't call him with "Zexy" again—that only happened when Demyx was serious, and anyone could tell that he was being dead serious.

The feeling was unconfortably filling Zexion's heart, erupting into his words. "I have to wake you up."

Slowly, his right hand reached his pocket and pulled the cold metal out. Demyx's eyes quickly darted to see it. Something he had seen over and over on TV, but never saw it in real life—a gun. And it might've been the first and the last time he saw it. He quickly made a few steps back. Zexion then raised his right arm which is holding the loaded weapon, pointing it to Demyx.

"But in order to wake you up," He almost pulled the trigger, "I have to kill you first."

* * *

A/N: WOW hey it's been a long time since the last chapter? I hope people are still following this fic Dx REVIEW PLEASE because the next one will be the last one! Have a great day people.


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